I may not look or speak like you
Because I am not from the same place
I am from something entirely different
Planted in entirely different soil
And I think that’s okay

I am from black and blue
Banged up knees and crimson blood
I am from overflowing medicine cabinets
And expired pill capsules
I am from dried out markers and glue
Childhood paintings and pastels

I am from a junk pile
Masses upon masses of sentimental things
I am from a messy home,
Messy people, messy clothes
And muddled feelings

I am from dead plants
Flowers over-showered with love
A place where we kill with kindness
Rather than of guns

I am from morals and values
Built upon common courtesy
Yes ma’am, no Sir, thank you
Could you please pass the rice and beans?

I am from mountains of cassette tapes
Heaps of records and stacks of CDs
So much that I have become every genre
This is where I’m from, who I am
Now, can you see?